


Don't stop believing

by MyLadyDay



Series: Think of all the roads [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 80s Music, Accidental Demon Summoning, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Demon Summoning, First Meetings, Hellhounds, Human!Steve, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Swearing, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, demon!Bucky, guardian angel!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 21:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only been a few short months since Steve's mother died and he'd been at a loss ever since, letting his self-destructive streak show more than it had before. That had to come to an end, of course, like these things usually do, even he knew that.<br/>The demon was an unexpected development, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't stop believing

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a oneshot and I got pressured into continuing it, but considering it's been a year, I think it's obvious that I can't and probably won't so I'm moving it back to my meet-cute/oneshot collection where it was. Sorry if you were expecting more. There's a slim chance it might still happen, but I'm not making any promises.

Steve approached his apartment door with rising trepidation, despite knowing Sam wasn’t gonna be there for the night. He was too used to coming home with blood on his face and a forming bruise, especially in the last couple of months, knowing Sam would give him that disapproving, yet sad look as soon as Steve was through the door. It was familiar and, well, a tradition in a twisted sort of sense, Steve guessed, but not pleasant in the slightest.

That didn’t mean he didn’t hate putting that particular look on Sam’s face. There was no denying the fact Sam wanted nothing more than to help, ease some of the pain Steve was facing, but there really was no way to do that. In reality, they both knew that wasn’t possible just yet.

Of course, Steve was also aware that getting into fights more often than not wasn’t a good way to go about this either. That made shame well up in his chest as he unlocked the door, seeing Sam’s face before his eyes despite Sam not actually being there, as expected. He was kind of at a loss for what to do, not used to coming to an empty apartment like this. With a heavy sigh, Steve leaned against the door for a moment, gathering his wits enough to come up with what to do next. Sam would have checked him over for wounds and cleaned them in silence, with that same look on his face, and Steve would sit through it without complaining about the coddling because he knew he was in the wrong here. He had no problem with admitting it, but he still couldn’t stop himself from fighting whichever jerk provoked him.

The stinging on his knuckles brought him back from his musings, reminding him that he’s on his own this time and that he should do something about the state he was in. Locking the door, Steve finally took a proper look at his hand, noting the shaking even in the scant lighting, but ignoring it for the moment as he looked over the broken skin and dried blood. There was no satisfaction to be found at knowing that most of the blood wasn’t even his. That never was a comfort, anyway.

Unable to look away from his hands, Steve made his way through the apartment with nothing but the shine of the streetlights to guide him. He wasn’t in the mood to bother with the lights, knowing he’d lived there long enough not to walk into furniture even in the dark. Besides, he didn’t want to catch his reflection and see the state he was in until he was at least a bit ready for it, hoping that would be when he got to the bathroom.

Trying to fool even himself, Steve turned towards his room instead of the bathroom in the last possible moment, stalling as he removed his jacket without bothering to look at it. His shirt followed immediately after, the motion of taking it off revealing a stab of pain in his ribs. He could already imagine the bruise he’d find there, cringing at the image his mind created. This was where the true shame kicked in, as he thought about his mother and what she would say if she could see him now. He may not have seen his face yet, but he could feel the stinging of his lip and the tightening of his skin where the blood had already gone cold and dried up. What a sight he must have made as he walked home.

For a moment, he stood in the middle of his room, once again at a loss, but this time he came to faster, wishing for nothing more than to fill the silence around him. The darkness didn’t bother him, but the silence was too much, amplifying the feeling of utter loneliness he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. With Sam over at Riley’s place, the only thing Steve could think of was playing some music to fill the lack of sound.

There was no stopping the scoff that bubbled out of him at the sound that came out of the speakers as soon as he turned the stereo on. It was his music, alright, the reason for Sam’s neverending ridicule even though it was Steve’s mom that got him to love this stuff just by playing it constantly when Steve was a kid. Just the thought of Sam making fun of him for liking 80s music made something loosen in Steve’s chest, knowing he wasn’t as alone as he thought sometimes.

He could recognize how much of the playlist was left just by listening to Starship’s ‘We built this city’ and knowing where in the list it was, figuring that would be enough time for him to face his own reflection and clean up the blood off himself. Maybe he’d even manage to sleep a bit before morning, glancing briefly to check the time before he steeled himself and made his way to the bathroom. It was just after midnight. Well, at least it wasn’t as late as he thought.

It wasn’t like him to back away from a fight, which was evident from his current situation, but that wasn’t limited to fights with bullies and jerks. No, Steve did not back away from his own stupidity either so, with clenched teeth and an almost painful set to his jaw, he stepped into the bathroom and flicked the lights on.

He was already facing the mirror, his reflection becoming visible as soon as the light was on and Steve couldn’t stop another onslaught of shame. There was no doubt that he helped that girl tonight, the one that was too drunk to push that fucking creep off herself and he refused to apologize for that. He was, however, starting to doubt his choice to fight said creep and his three buddies in an alley littered with all kinds of crap that seemed to include shattered glass or something else equally sharp.

His forearms were littered with scratches from when the guy tackled him and Steve’s hands went up to cushion his fall, jacket sleeves rucking up to apparently expose enough of his skin to whatever it was he’d landed in. Those weren’t so bad, though. They weren’t even what held Steve’s attention.

He couldn’t look away from his face, blood covering his lips where it ran down from his nose before drying up and a cut on his cheek from when douchebag number three took out a knife, a bruise on his jaw that still seemed to be forming to it’s final dark hue and a split lip. But none of those were, unfortunately, that out of the ordinary. Even from the bathroom doorway, Steve could still glimpse the fading yellow around his eye from the fight a week before.

The bags under his eyes were a surprise, though. To him it felt like he was seeing himself properly for the first time in so long, surprised at the absolute exhaustion he could read on his own face that momentarily seemed like that of a stranger. He could barely recognize himself, the unhealthy whiteness of his skin doing so much to bring out the bruises and the blood. The look of him now was more unhealthy than the way he was as a kid, sickly and small and nothing but a source of worry for his mother.

God, what would his mother say if she saw him now? There was no way he could have stopped himself from thinking that, knowing she was proud of him and the way he protected those that needed to be protected. But seeing himself now, he could finally see he’d gone too far and his mother would have no pride left for him.

Averting his eyes, he finally moved closer to the sink, doing his best to avoid looking at the mirror again. He just wanted to clean up and go to bed with the hope that he would actually fall asleep. After all, he had absolutely nothing planned for tomorrow and maybe he could  finally get some rest.

The water was warm by the time he snapped out of fantasizing about actual sleep and he didn’t waste any more time before he gently washed his hands, clearing the dry blood from his knuckles along with the dirt from the alley. His forearms were next and he remained careful enough in case there was glass stuck in one of the scrapes, but sighed in relief when it became clear there was nothing.

He was tired, though. More physically than mentally at this point, though it was all there somewhere. Despite knowing it probably wouldn’t work out, Steve tried washing his face without having to actually look at it for now, splashing warm water over his skin with his eyes closed, only looking in time to see grime and blood wash down the drain. The music he’d turned on earlier finally filtered through to him now that he felt a bit more like himself, his face and hands clean and his chest lighter, the shame not that heavy anymore.

Nothing was enough to stop him from snorting at the song that reached him, remembering how his mother used to be amused when he sang ‘Don’t stop believing’ at the top of his voice, but as amusing as the memory was, it did nothing to distract from the pain shooting through his nose at the action of snorting. For a moment he forgot that his nose was hurt as well, even if it wasn’t broken probably, but there was no denying the trickle of blood that followed. He probably hated this the most, the blood that would clot and make him think it was all okay before he did something to dislodge it, making his nose bleed yet again.

Several drops hit the white surface of the sink and Steve sighed, but the song and the memory it invoked improved his mood nonetheless and he just washed off the rest of the blood before grabbing a towel to press against his nose. Sleep didn’t seem like an option yet, not until the bleeding stopped anyway, but Steve wanted nothing more than to just fall on top of his bed and rest.

Instead, he sat on the bed, towel pressed against his face while ‘Don’t stop believing’ came to an end and ‘Killer queen’ filled the room. That one just reminded him of Peggy and made him smile against the wet towel, ignoring that he was actually getting blood all over his face yet again. He was humming along to Freddie’s voice, enjoying one of his all time favorite songs as he waited, finally relaxing to a less guilt-ridden degree.

There was no preparing for the low voice that sang along to the chorus originating from somewhere behind Steve’s back. He jumped and turned around, eyes searching for the source of the singing, so different from Freddie’s voice that there was no mistaking the presence of another person. Yet, he saw nothing. Leaving the lights off was a mistake, perhaps, concealing whoever it was and Steve realized in that moment that this intruder could have been there the entire time. Still, he saw no one in the dark corners of his room.

A glint of red, though, drew his gaze to the farthest corner and finally, Steve could see the outline of a man standing there.

“Who the fuck are you?” Steve asked, his instinct to fight kicking in. “And how did you get in?” His voice held nothing but aggression and agitation; his day was far too long for this, he just wanted to sleep and not worry about a damn burglar.

“Let’s not play this game,” he was told in the same voice that had been singing only a moment ago. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll be on my way.”

“The hell would I want from you, just get out of my house before I either call the cops or kick your ass myself.”

Steve was too tired for this shit.

“Listen, pal,” the voice became annoyed as well, the man it belonged to stepping just a bit closer from the dark corner, “you summoned me. And considering my ritual is rarely done right on purpose, not to mention damn impossible to do on accident, you must want something real bad to actually go through the trouble. So just spit it out so I can go back to not dealing with mortals.”

Too tired for this by far.

“You listen, _pal,_ I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you need to get the hell out of my apartment because I’m having a crappy night and I’ll do whatever I can to make yours even worse.” He didn’t think wanting to sleep was actually that much to ask, really. And he wasn’t exactly that keen on fighting again, but this may be a special circumstance considering this guy broke into Steve’s apartment.

“You can’t just summon a demon and get away with it, this isn’t a middle school prank call, Steve,” the guy told him and Steve had absolutely no time to consider the demon part when he heard his name being said. “So unless you’re telling me you just so happened to spill three drops of blood from a warrior just out of battle inside the short three minute window at a specific time of day to a very specific sound playing in the background, you’re very much screwed.”

Steve’s anger all but melted away, replaced by a deep confusion that, ironically, made him mad because this guy was making no sense.

“Well, you’re screwed either way because, accident or not, you still have to make a deal with me,” the guy added while Steve just stared.

“You honestly expect me to believe you’re a demon? That may be the dumbest excuse for breaking into someone’s apartment I ever heard,” Steve said because seriously, who the hell did this guy think he was talking to? He couldn’t, however, stop himself from think back to when he had started bleeding in the bathroom to try and remember what sound could have been heard in the background. Once again, Steve snorted accidentally. “And you think I’m dumb enough to believe you can summon demons by listening to Journey?”

At this point, Steve was sure he must have been hit in the head harder than he’d thought. Or maybe he was just that sleep deprived, thinking up a random scenario like this. But the flash of red was there again as the man moved swiftly until he was pushing Steve up against a wall, standing close enough that he could see the dull red was where the guy’s eyes should have been.

“You can’t summon demons, you can summon _me_.” The words were growled into his face as surprisingly unmovable hands held him in place. It was a weird time to be embarrassed over being shirtless, Steve couldn’t help but think. “Now tell me what kind of a deal you want so I can be on my fuckin’ way.”

The red eyes may have been creepy as hell, but Steve found himself surprisingly not all that weirded out about the demon thing. A low barking sound stopped him from speaking, though, and apparently made the demon guy pull back a bit. Both of them looked at where the sound came from and Steve could only see there was something there by the same red shine to a pair of eyes the demon had.

“What the hell did you do to that dog?” Steve had to ask because dogs were pure and no way could they have anything to do with demons.

“I didn’t do anything!” the guy shouted, seemingly very insulted by the accusation. “He’s a hellhound, you jackass.”

Only, the dog stepped closer and, now that he wasn’t pressed up against the wall anymore, Steve could see him a bit better.

“Looks like a corgi to me.”

That could have been the wrong thing to say, Steve thought as he looked up to find the demon’s eyes a sharper angrier red.

“A corgi?!” Steve was sure that was meant to come out as an angry snarl, but it sounded suspiciously high pitched to him. Just like that, the demon was stepping away from Steve, muttering to himself and occasionally glaring at the dog sitting by Steve’s feet.

“You know what, whatever, just tell me what kind of a deal you want and I’m gone.”

Steve almost felt bad for the guy, keyword being almost here, but he was a demon and not exactly invited to the apartment so Steve wasn’t really inclined to feel that bad.

“I don’t want a deal, you can just go,” Steve told him. “In fact, please go.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘till you make a deal, punk,” the demon sounded frustrated now, a subtle accent creeping into his speech that certainly wasn’t there before. “So sign over your soul for some stupid selfish wish and you don’t have to see me for the foreseeable future. More importantly, I don’t have to look at your dumb mug either.”

“No,” Steve said firmly, slowly getting more pissed once again, but he was still so tired. “You can fuck off, I’m going to sleep.” With that, Steve unbuttoned his jeans and let them drop to the floor before he let himself finally fall flat on the bed. He ignored the sputtering behind him and the dipping of his mattress when the supposed hellhound jumped up to join him, causing more sounds to erupt from the demon’s mouth. Steve didn’t care, he just closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep with the warmth of a furry dog at his side.

Even if he wanted to hope the apartment would be blissfully empty by the time he woke up, Steve had to admit he wasn’t exactly expecting it. The dog was still tucked into his side when he opened his eyes in the morning and there was music playing from the kitchen. It could easily have been Sam, but he didn’t exactly make it a habit to sing along to Led Zeppelin in the mornings. Still, despite the knowledge that the guy was a demon whose name Steve didn’t know and that he was there just because Steve managed to summon him in what was probably the most bizarre summoning ever, the whole thing was somewhat comforting. Steve didn’t feel quite as alone as he normally did, which didn’t exactly seem fair to Sam considering he lived there too.

“I know you’re awake, asshole!” a shout sounded over the music. “Get up and stop hogging my dog.”

Steve found himself getting up and walking to the kitchen with the dog in tow, entirely ignoring the domesticity of the situation.

“Didn’t you say he’s a hellhound?” Steve asked with a smirk as he entered the kitchen, immediately stopping in his tracks as he got a good look at the demon for the first time. Momentarily neglecting to pay attention to the fact the demon was hot as hell, pun not intended, Steve narrowed his eyes. “Are those my clothes? What the fuck? You can’t just steal my stuff!”

“I’m a demon, pal, we ain’t exactly known for following rules,” the demon told him. “You could always make a deal with me and I’d be out of your hair, though.”

“You’re not exactly known for cooking breakfast for your victims, either,” Steve said without acknowledging the offer, eyeing the food set out on the small kitchen table, once he’d averted his gaze from the guy wearing his clothes without asking for permission. It kind of hit him that he had actually fallen asleep with a demon standing by his bed, but it was a bit too late to worry over that and Steve figured he was already committed to this thing, whatever it was. He could almost hear Sam yelling at him for being this unconcerned by a demon in their shared kitchen.

“I wouldn’t call you a victim,” the demon told him with a raised eyebrow. “You should eat that before it gets cold.”

“Not gonna join me?” Steve asked, tasting the surprisingly good food while under the scrutiny of an actual demon. The whole situation was surreal and it didn’t get any better when the dog walked up to him, begging for food.

“I only cook, can’t eat the stuff.”

Steve continued eating, trying his best to not freak out over how indifferent he was being before a thought occurred to him and he couldn’t help but voice it.

“Are you trying to weird me out so I’d make a deal and you can leave?” he asked, grinning when he got a glare in reply. “I’m never selling my soul if you’ll cook for me.”

The demon was obviously going to reply to that, and the shit eating grin on Steve’s face, with less than pleasant words, but was interrupted when the front door opened.

“Morning!” Sam yelled from the small entry way and the demon froze immediately.

“Aw, crap,” he said, much to Steve’s surprise and bewilderment, but there was no time for questions as Sam walked into the kitchen. He stopped as soon as he was next to Steve, though, eyes glued to the demon wearing Steve’s clothes. Not that Sam knew it was a demon.

“Steve, why’s there a demon in our kitchen?”

He turned to Steve then, narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?!” Steve asked incredulously, because seriously, what the hell. Even though, technically, he did summon a demon so his point was kind of moot. The outrage was enough to make him forget to address the fact Sam did, in fact, know the guy was a demon. Honestly, it would have been better if he thought Steve had brought a random guy home then had sex with him on every flat surface in the apartment.

“Birdman!” the demon called out, effectively stopping an outraged rant Steve might have bullshitted through just for the sake of hating that everyone automatically assumed everything was his fault. “I got worried for a moment there, thought you were one of the scary angels.”

“Don’t call me that, _Bucky_ ,” Sam said with a raised eyebrow, attention once again pointedly focused on the demon. Steve couldn’t stop the snort if he wanted to this time.

“Your name’s Buck… wait, angel?”

His question, even though registered by the demon, Bucky, went by unanswered as Sam continued speaking.

“Why are you here?” he asked, arms crossed and gaze unwavering. Bucky looked just a tiny bit uncomfortable.

“Hey, don’t look at me, he summoned me here!” Bucky said in an outraged sort of way that rivaled even Steve. “I didn’t even wanna come!”

Sam observed with a set to his jaw for a moment before he, very slowly, raised a hand and facepalmed.

“Oh my god, he summoned you accidentally with his stupid ass music and your stupid ass ritual,” Sam muttered to himself, though Steve heard enough to be insulted. His music was not stupid. “No wonder I was assigned to watch over him.”

“Are you even allowed to talk like that?” Steve asked, taking the new information in stride. Honestly, after the demon and his hellhound/corgi, finding out Sam was an angel wasn’t all that weird. The man was basically flawless, it kind of made sense if he thought about it.

“I can when it’s true,” Sam answered him with a roll of his eyes. The kitchen was silent for a moment, Steve taking all of it in while Bucky looked slightly out of his depth.

And then Sam burst out laughing. That was probably the biggest surprise, not only for Steve, but also Bucky who startled at the sound of it as Sam looked up right at him.

“You can’t leave until he sells his soul, can you?” he asked before continuing the laughter. Steve had to admit, it was wonderful hearing such joy from Sam even though he couldn’t quite make sense of what it was that provoked it. “Good luck with that, man,” Sam managed to say before he was crying from laughter. “Oh, Nat’s gonna love this,” he added as calmed down a bit.

“You angels are assholes,” Bucky muttered, something akin to a pout on his face that only made Sam laugh once again. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about your charge here?” he asked, pointing at Steve.

“Man, the day you get him to sell his soul for something selfish in return, hell’s gonna freeze over and you’re out of a job anyway,” Sam said with such certainty, Steve couldn’t help but grin. It was true, he hadn’t really been thinking of making any sort of deal, no matter how much he’d like to see his mom alive again. Sam must have known that. Yet, there didn’t seem to be any doubts at all.

Something else Sam had said came back to Steve, though.

“What do you mean he can’t leave until we make a deal?”

Bucky groaned while Sam looked completely gleeful.

“Means exactly what I said,” Sam said with a grin, “he’s staying with us until you sell your soul.”

“But I’m not gonna sell my soul!” Steve exclaimed because there is no way he’d do that. Bucky just groaned again.

“Well then we have a new roommate, don’t we?” Sam pointed out, crouching down to pet the dog. “You summoned him so you can keep him.”

Bucky groaned a third time before muttering: “‘m not a dog.”

Sam was in no way paying attention to that, though, as far as Steve could tell.

“This lil’ guy can stay with me, though,” Sam added, scratching behind the dog’s ear.

“What am I supposed to do with a demon? Do I need to take him out for walks or something?” Steve said, interrupted only by an offended sounding ‘hey!’ from Bucky. “Where’s he gonna sleep? Does he even sleep?” Steve kept going, ignoring the annoyed ‘I’m right here, dammit!’ because Sam seemed like a slightly more reliable source.

“I don’t know, buy him a collar,” Sam said with a fuckin’ giggle.

“Kinky,” was all that Bucky offered in reply to that, as if nothing else was said before.

At this point, Steve was sure he felt a headache building. And he’d thought breakfast cooked by a demon was weird. It did make him forget about his grief briefly, though, something that hadn’t happened in far too long.

“We don’t have room for you, you should leave,” Steve said in Bucky’s direction. “The dog can stay,” he added after a beat. Naturally, Bucky rolled his eyes.

“What part of ‘I can’t leave’ don’t you get, punk? I’m stuck here with you and the bird over there,” he said, motioning over towards Sam who looked far too amused. Though, Steve might have imagined it, but the annoyance on Bucky’s face gave way to an increasingly devious grin.

“Actually, I’m bound to you, Stevie,” he said slowly, the faintest bit of red flashing in his eyes. “Means you ain’t goin’ nowhere without me from now on.”

There was something slightly terrifying about that, though at the same time weirdly arousing which Steve didn’t really know how to process at the moment. Apparently, neither did Sam.

“That’s my cue, I’m gonna take a nap.” And he was gone without a second glance, the dog tucked away in his arms.

Bucky’s weak protest at that went completely unnoticed.

“You’re not actually gonna follow me everywhere, right?” Steve asked, finishing what was left of his breakfast.

“‘fraid so,” Bucky told him, though the grin on his face indicated that he wasn’t as put out by it as it might have appeared. “I’m gonna wear you down, Stevie.”

“You trying to flirt your way to getting my soul, Buck?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Would that work?”

“I’m not gonna sell my soul to get laid, no.”

“Damn.”

Steve was starting to think that Bucky wasn’t exactly the best demon there was, considering… well, everything about their interaction since he popped up in Steve’s bedroom. It was endearing, sure, but he wouldn’t consider himself charmed enough to sell his soul, thank you very much.

“Is everyone gonna be able to see you when you’re with me?” Steve asked suddenly, trying to picture Bucky following him to work, which he wasn’t sure would even work out, or out with friends other than Sam.

“Yup,” Bucky replied, oblivious or not caring about Steve’s concerns.

“You could go unseen, couldn’t you?”

“Yup,” he repeated with a grin and yeah, Steve could see the devious demon in him, though this was far more harmless than one might think. After all, the guy was threatening with maybe embarrassing him as opposed to violence and carnage you might expect from a demon.

“Keep cooking for me and I’ll think about a deal,” Steve told him, eyeing the rest of the food Bucky made, but didn’t bring to the table.

“Really?” Bucky asked with such obvious excitement, Steve almost felt bad about replying.

Almost.

“Nope.”

The look he good in turn was more demonic than anything he’d seen on Bucky so far.

“You’re gonna make this worse than hell, aren’t you?” he asked and Steve found himself laughing like he hadn’t in a while, loud and unrestrained because how could he not. He was faced with a demon, someone who was for all intents and purposes extremely evil and capable of a great many villainous things. Yet, he decided to cook and try to annoy Steve into a deal. It was hard to be scared, really.

“I don’t know, Buck. If you behave, we can be buddies,” Steve said, feeling more like the little shit that he was than he had in too long. “I’ll even let you sleep in my bed if you’re good.”

“Demons aren’t good, Steve, that’s kinda the whole point.” The eye roll was almost audible with that one. It was ridiculous.

“You know, this almost sounds like the beginning of a joke,” he continued, far too amused now to just let it go. “A human, a demon and an angel walk into a bar…”

“OH MY GOD, STEVE!”

“You sure you should be saying that name in vain?”

The look he got in reply to his question was an unholy combination of utter despair and demon red eyes, making it obvious that, while probably not the smartest thing he’s done, antagonizing a demon was at least very fun.


End file.
